Introduction and Bio
I'm married; live in Florida with husband, Scott, and two dogs and three cats; and am a legal secretary. I like to read and crochet and write letters and poetry. I'm researching my father's service in China during WWII, and I'm on the DAL Net "vietnamvets" channel as "ArmyMom."
These poems are for my son, Michael T. Ream, who is a Sgt. in the Army, presently on his second "tour" in Germany. He has also served in Somalia, Korea, and just returned to Germany from Bosnia. It sometimes seems that I have been sending care packages forever!
Enlisted in the Army 1987, basic training at Ft. Dix, NJ.
He is an Aircraft Structural Repairman and works mainly on Black Hawk and Apache helicopters. He is also Air Assault qualified. He has served in Korea, Somalia, Germany (two 3-year hitches - in the middle of the second) and has recently returned to Germany from a short stint in Bosnia.
He's 28, loves to read, and has quite a collection of military books. An avid chess player and computer-gamer. Married to Aletha, he lives in Geibelstadt, Germany.
Here's one for Michael, my son:
My phone rings. "Hey, Mom, we're good to go." Dreaded words for me - Set against the strange cacophany Of plane and chopper noise. My son, and all the Other "boys" Off on a mission, an adventure Like countless soldiers gone before - Off to war .... I try to think Say something wise Before he flies So far away. I think of nothing other than Be careful son, Write when you can... And he was gone. Months later, same phone rings. I hear him say, "I'm home Mom, I'm fine." Beautiful words that bring Instant peace of mind. It's always easier to leave Than to be left behind.
White WallThe wall was smooth and white but now is pocked; it has stains - some brown, some red, representing many dead. ~~ The wall, from afar, still looks bright white under the stars - A bit like life, until you get close enough to see the scars. .. Christina 4-10-99 ......................
The sound of the Muezzin announcing the Dawn, calling the faithful to God, is the time they scurried and hurried to get the wounded into the APC - Sometimes, God must wonder "Who's calling me?". ..For the Rangers Christina 4-10-99
The Empty BunkThe battle in Mogadishu raged in slow motion ricocheting bullets bouncing off the walls.. People down - just wounded, not dead - We don't die - We can't die We are Americans We are Rangers. We are arrogant. ~~ Rush for the APC, the Humvee Pats on the back - we made it! Shaking hands hold cigarettes Relief is a tangible thing. But adrenalin's still pumping heart rate jumping - High on Life, for now ~ Not yet time for the "blue funk" ~ That will come later, when we see the empty bunk.
Turning the Turret
..In the midst of the battle, the turret turned and sprayed the area ~ Except an area doesn't care if it's peppered with bullets - an area feels no pain. And after it's quiet a lone Somali man carries a thin, dead child down the middle of the street. Our eyes don't meet. And then I wondered how many lives were lost or changed, how many mothers' hearts are yearning, all because of a turret turning.Christina 4-10-99
"ArmyMom's" poetry about Vietnam can be read by accessing the "Vietnam Veterans Home Page" Web site, clicking on the "Remembrance" main section, and then the "From The Heart" Gallery.